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at all. The ad online mentioned living quarters for the housekeeper attached to the house.”

      He nodded, curious. What was she getting at? “Yes … why?”

      She didn’t hesitate. “I can start tomorrow, if I can move into those quarters until you hire a housekeeper. I have my stuff in my car.”

      Dead silence, for a moment. “You brought all your things with you on the basis of an interview?” Marsh asked. “What if I hadn’t hired you?”

      Jennifer shrugged. “I’d have found something else, somewhere else. I’m not in a hurry. But no, I didn’t bring all my things.” She flashed a brilliant smile at him, and this one Marsh felt from his hairline to his … never mind. “I would have needed an 18-wheeler for that.”

      Uh-huh, he thought, aching in all the wrong places and wondering if he had just made the biggest mistake of his life. “Miss Dunning, are you certain you want this job?”

      “Jen,” she said.

      “What?”

      “I prefer Jen,” she answered. “And yes, I am certain. I wouldn’t have bothered interviewing if I didn’t want it.” She gave him a strange look. “Why, have you changed your mind?”

      “No.” Marsh gave a quick shake of his head, ignoring the voice inside himself that was telling him to take the out she’d just offered. “I haven’t changed my mind … Jen.”

      “Okay, then can I use the housekeeper’s living quarters temporarily?”

      “Yeah, sure, why not,” he said. “Considering the kind of responses I’ve had, it might be a while.”

      She frowned. “Exactly what kind of responses have you received?”

      He shrugged. “Oh, things like, ‘it’s too isolated,’ ‘too far from Dallas or any other decent-size city,’ and on and on.”

      “Too isolated?” Jen repeated in a tone of disbelief. “There are a lot of towns in this area. From what I gather, the entire hill country is overrun with tourists.” She paused, and seemed to size him up for a moment, as if suddenly questioning the wisdom of what she’d just done. “That was one of the reasons I asked if I could have the housekeeper’s quarters. I wasn’t certain I could find accommodations anywhere close by.”

      Marsh ignored the way she was looking at him. “Well, glad to be of help,” he said, as neutrally as possible.

      She relaxed and flashed that smile. “I think the location is perfect.”

      Marsh felt as if a cool finger had just trailed his spine. Ignoring it, he said the first thing that jumped into his rattled mind.

      “Would you like to look at the apartment now?”

      “Yes, please.” Finishing off her coffee, she stood and started for the door. “I’ll go get my stuff.”

      “I’ll help you,” Marsh said. “Drive your car around to the garages at the side. There’s a private entrance to the apartment there.”

      To Marsh’s surprise, Jen didn’t have all that much. He had expected to find her car packed solid with all the “necessities” most of the women he knew needed for a week away. But Jen had two suitcases, a canvas carry-on bag, a computer case and a midsize carton, which drew a mild grunt from him when he hoisted it from the trunk.

      “Books,” she said, smiling at him.

      “No kidding,” Marsh said, sliding the heavy carton under one arm. “And I was just about to tell you how light you were traveling.”

      “A girl’s got to have her books,” Jen said as she headed off in the direction he indicated, giving him a luscious view that made him sure he was going to regret the day Jennifer Dunning came into his life.

      As they walked through the garage to the apartment, Jen took note of the four very expensive cars parked in each bay and the workhorse truck in the fifth one. The cars—and the garage itself—were cleaner than the interior of the house. Jen smiled to herself as Marsh crossed the spotless cement floor to a side door.

      “Will you get the door, please? It’s unlocked.”

      “Of course,” she said, skirting around him to open it and stepping back for him to precede her. Nodding in thanks, he started up a flight of stairs. To her surprise, the stairway led into a long hallway inside the house, not above the garage, as she had assumed. So, the quarters weren’t attached to the house, they were inside the house.

      Mmm, she mused, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. That thought was immediately followed by, Oh, grow up, Jennifer, surely Mr. Grainger wouldn’t try anything with his assistant, would he? At the thought, Jen felt a strange twinge in the pit of her stomach that wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

      She ignored the sensation and decided she was being ridiculous. The door would have a lock … or so she hoped.

      Dropping the suitcase, Marsh dug a ring of keys from his pocket and removed one, unlocking and opening the door. “After you,” he said, standing back to let her pass.

      “Thank you.” Jen entered, pleasantly surprised by the cozy living room. She heard him sigh behind her.

      “I’m sorry,” he said, following her into the room. “The place needs a good cleaning. If I’d have known …”

      “It’s fine,” she said, cutting him off. “I’ll take care of it.”

      “Possibly I could get the young woman who used to help out once a week before the housekeeper …”

      “It’s all right. Really.” She smiled. “I learned how to clean from the best.” Jen was on the move as she spoke, checking out the bedroom, the bathroom, the small dining area and lastly the kitchen. He trailed behind her.

      Making a quick turn, she almost crashed into him.

      “Sorry.” They spoke in unison.

      Jen laughed.

      Marsh smiled. “So, what do you think?”

      “I like it,” she said. “This kitchen is fabulous.”

      “You can cook?”

      She swung a wicked grin at him. “I’m a damn good cook. I practically grew up with the chef in my mother’s kitchen.”

      “Uh-huh.” He hesitated before saying, “I’m a disaster in the kitchen. The last decent meal I had was in a restaurant two weeks ago.”

      “Too bad,” she commiserated with him. “I love to cook.”

      “Wanna get paid for it?”

      Jen frowned. “What do you mean?”

      “I’ll up your salary by half if you’ll take over the cooking in the main kitchen downstairs.”

      Jen extended her hand to him. “You’ve got yourself a cook.” Her palm tingled at the touch of his rough, callused skin against hers. It wasn’t the first time—she had felt the same sensation when they had shaken hands before, only then she had put it down to nervousness over the interview. Then there was that funny twist in her midsection a short time ago.

      She didn’t know what it all was exactly, but she didn’t like it.

      Fortunately, the contact lasted only a moment. He released her hand and moved to the door, pausing again to glance back at her.

      “You don’t have to start your administrative duties tomorrow, as you offered. Take the next three days to get set up in here. I’ll be in my office. If you need anything—” he nodded at the slim phone on the countertop “—just hit number one. Any questions?”

      “Yes,” Jen said. “Since I assume there is no food here, where is the nearest grocery store?”

      He

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